


Barely Legal Detective

by jail_bird



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Anxiety, Attempted Murder, Banter, Blood and Violence, Crime Scenes, Gang Violence, Guns, How does one tag??, M/M, Murder cases, Panic Attacks, Slow Build, Swearing, basically it's a police au, it's not as bad as the tags I promise, this is going to be fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-09
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-04-20 13:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14261544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jail_bird/pseuds/jail_bird
Summary: “Craig, did you seriously fall asleep again?”The blue-haired Brit snapped awake, bolting upright in his chair. Sleepy grey eyes blinked owlishly behind smudged frames, confusion and guilt written plain across his face. “Huh?”Tyler sighed, pressing his fingers to his temple. “How the hell are you supposed to do your job as the god damn security guard if you’re snoozing away at your desk?”---They had the most dangerous job in the city.





	1. One

“Craig, did you seriously fall asleep again?”

 

The blue-haired Brit snapped awake, bolting upright in his chair. Sleepy grey eyes blinked owlishly behind smudged frames, confusion and guilt written plain across his face. “Huh?”

 

Tyler sighed, pressing his fingers to his temple. “How the hell are you supposed to do your job as the _god damn security guard_ if you’re snoozing away at your desk?”

 

He watched with a hint of fondness as the other man pouted childishly, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes. Wild strands of blue stuck up in clumps on his head. Tyler had to resist reaching over and running his fingers through his hair. God, it was tempting. Instead, he plopped himself down on the crowded desk and forced down his thoughts.

 

“‘m sorry sir, won’t happen again.” Craig yawned and cleaned his glasses. “Jus’ got tired I guess, an’ fell asleep.”

 

“That’s the third time this week, Craig.” Tyler did his best to adopt a stern tone as he reprimanded him. “As much as I sympathize with your fucked sleep schedule, this can’t keep happening. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

 

Craig’s eyes widened in sudden panic. “Are you gonna fire me?” He began to babble, words started pouring from his mouth before Tyler could even blink. “No please I’m really sorry sir it won’t happen again I promise! I’llneverfallasleepagainjustpleasedon’tfiremeohGodmyparentsaregoingtokill— _mmph_!”

 

He was cut off abruptly by Tyler clamping a hand over his still-moving mouth. “Jesus, calm down.” Craig glared up at him in protest, muffled words of indignation still spewing out between the American’s fingers. Tyler snorted, amused. “No, I’m not going to fire you. Unless you don’t shut up, that is.”

 

He had to stifle a laugh when Craig nodded furiously and slapped away his hand. “So, you wanna break later today? We had a new recruit come in yesterday and I’d like you to show him the ropes this afternoon. Nothing too special, just a tour of the place would be fine.”

 

The Brit frowned. “But I’m a security guard, not an officer.”

 

“That’s not a problem. You know your way around here as much as anyone else, even if all you do is sit at a desk and sleep,” Tyler snickered, earning a good-natured middle finger. The American flashed him a wide, shit-eating grin. “Also, he’s an annoying, meme-obsessed shitlord, so you two should get along just fine.”

 

He dodged as Craig swatted at him, laughing when the Brit sputtered indignantly, face reddening. “Shitlord?! Speak for yourself, you asscrack!”

 

Tyler feigned offense with a gasp. “Insulting a superior now, are we? Tsk tsk, I expected better, Craig. I might make you to do something really stupid and embarrassing as punishment, like dye your hair bright pink.” He fought to keep a straight face. “Oh wait, you already did that before. Nevermind.”

 

“Suck a dick,” Craig muttered, red as a tomato. Tyler couldn’t help it, bursting out into his famous wheezing laughter.

 

“Someone’s pissed,” he snickered. Craig grumbled incoherently about “bucket of horse shit” and “it was for a dare” before turning back to his monitor.

 

Suddenly remembering his job, Tyler fumbled around the desk for a sticky note and quickly scribbled out a name and phone number. “Anyways, here’s the recruit’s number. I suggest you add him on your phone; text him if you’d like, get to know him. His name’s Smitty, he’s got white hair—”

 

“The fuck kinda name is Smitty?” Craig interrupted.

 

Tyler sighed. “I don’t know, ask him, not me. Anyways—”

 

“Hold up, did you say _white hair_? How fuckin’ old i—”

 

“Can you shut the fuck up and lemme talk?” Tyler shot him a glare, exasperated. Craig closed his mouth sheepishly. “Sorry.”

 

Tyler’s expression softened. “S’alright. Uh, anyways. Hair’s white because he dyed it, not because he’s some really old dude we hired, with no teeth and liver spots.” The Brit snorted. “He’s Canadian. And he’s actually pretty fucking young. Like, twenty or some shit like that. So—”

 

Craig raised an eyebrow. “Twenty? Why’s he working here then?”

 

“Beats me,” he answered with a shrug. “You cool with touring him?”

 

The Brit raised an eyebrow. “Memes, white hair, and he’s a snowman. Hell yeah I’m in. He sounds fun.”

 

Tyler snorted, sliding off the desk. “The last time you referred to a Canadian as ‘snowman,’  you almost got slapped.”

 

“Because Evan’s one son of a bitch,” Craig stated bluntly before adding, “Well, mostly when he’s drowning in paperwork. Mostly.”

 

“You can say that again,” Tyler sighed, running a hand through his hair. The Brit looked up from his monitor in mild surprise. “Our resident psychopath— sorry, _homicide detective_ , keeping you on your toes? What’s he found this time?”

  
The light-hearted attitude disappeared from his eyes as the American rubbed his face. Fatigue and dread weighed heavy in his voice. “We got a gang feud. _Again._ ”


	2. Two

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon when a sleek silver car shuddered to a stop against the shoulder of the highway, the front left wheel rapidly deflating. Behind the wheel, the driver swore and killed the ignition. The window rolled down and a mess of marble white hair emerged as he poked his head out to inspect the damage. Torn open in several places, the tire sported an array of sizeable glass shards, lodged deep in the rubber. 

 

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, pressing his forehead against the leather steering wheel. The dashboard blinked at him; the time read 5:47 AM. 

 

“First day on the job and I got a flat tire,” Smitty mumbled to himself. For a moment he considered skipping his morning shift altogether. _ I could just never show up at the station… but that’d be a real dick move. And I really don’t want to start my first real work day by looking like an asshole.  _

 

_ I suppose I have to go. Either way, I’m going to be late. _

 

“Fuck,” he swore. Then he remembered he had the Chief’s phone number.

 

He fumbled for his cell phone —  _ what was his name again? Tyler? _ — and found his list of recent contacts, selecting the first number. Pressing the call button, he held the phone up to his ear with nervous fingers, biting his lip.

 

\---

 

Tyler yawned and stretched out a hand, slapping the blaring alarm off his nightstand. It fell to the ground with a clatter and the room promptly fell quiet. Cracking one eye open, he spared a glance at the clock. It was almost six. 

 

_ Six o’clock is too fucking early in the morning for anything. _

 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Tyler let out a muffled groan and chose to bury himself deeper into the warmth of his sheets, dozing off. 

 

His phone rang, startling him. He growled in annoyance and groped around his pillows, stifling another yawn. Pressing the call to his ear, he mumbled. “Hello?”

 

A voice he didn’t recognize answered him. “ _ Uh, hey. Is this Tyler? _ ”

 

“Yeah, that’s me.” In the brief silence that followed, Tyler wondered who the hell had the nerve to call him at nearly six in the morning. 

 

“ _ Oh, hey Chief. Um… I’m Smitty, the new guy who came in yesterday for a tour. _ ” 

 

_ The new guy. _ Tyler blinked several times, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Hey, Smitty. What’s up?”

 

“ _ I, uh, don’t think I can make it to the station in time for my shift… I kinda got a problem. _ ”

 

“What happened?” He was fully awake by now. “Are you okay?”

 

“ _ I’m good, it’s my car. I uh…  I blew a tire, ran over some broken glass on the highway. _ ”

 

Tyler rolled out of bed, pinning the phone between his shoulder and ear as he fumbled for his work uniform. “Fuckin’ hell… Well shit. What’s your location?”

 

If Smitty seemed taken aback by him cursing, he didn’t show it. “ _ Along the highway, just short of exit 3A.  _ ” There was a pause. “ _ Uh, sorry about, y’know, the inconvenience. I know you guys are really busy and I don’t want to cause any problems. _ ” Smitty chuckled. “ _ I wasn’t expecting this to happen on my first shift, I’m really sorry. _ ”

 

“No, no, it’s fine, shit happens. I got a friend—” Tyler slid on a pair of jeans, struggling to dress while also not dropping his phone, “—who lives kinda near the station, I’ll have him pick you up. You have insurance? I can call a tow truck.”

 

“ _ Yeah, I— hang on, Chief, you don’t have to get someone, it’s okay. I appreciate it, I really do, but— _ ”

 

“How fucked is your tire?” he asked, glancing at the clock. 

 

“ _ Uh—, _ ” Tyler heard the sound of a car door opening followed by the crunch of gravel. “ _ It’s… bad. Undrivable at the least. Fuck, I don’t have any spares on me. _ ”

 

“Yeah, I figured. Flat tires are a pain in the ass. So unless you’re Superman in disguise, I don’t think you’ll be able to Flintstone that shit all the way to the station.” He grabbed his badge and cap from his desk, heading downstairs. “So stay where you are and call a tow if you can, I’m sending someone.”

 

He could hear Smitty’s hesitation. “ _ Chief— _ ”

 

The American slid down the stairs two at a time, phone in hand. “Call me Tyler.”

 

“ _ —Tyler, um, you don’t have to do this. I mean, I’ll be fine. I don’t need a personal chauffeur. _ ”

 

“Your car’s busted and you’re likely not going anywhere soon,” Tyler reminded him, reaching for his coffee maker. He set his phone on the kitchen counter and put the call on speaker. “And plus, the guy I’m sending doesn’t live too far from where you’re at right now. Seriously, dude, don’t worry about it. First day, shit happens. I’ll get someone to cover your shift.” The maker hummed, the addicting smell of coffee rising with the steam. “You know Craig?”

 

“ _ The guy with blue hair who toured me yesterday? Yeah, I know him. _ ”

 

“Craig’s always at the station early. Never understood why someone in their right mind would get up at four-thirty in the fuckin’ morning, but he pulls it off. He can take your shift. So just sit tight for about ten-fifteen minutes and my friend will pick you up. He’s a good dude; you two should get along fine.”

 

Smitty seemed at a loss for words, heavy gratitude spilling out from stuttered words. “ _ I, um… Thanks, Chief. Seriously, thank you. _ ” 

 

Tyler smiled, watching the dark coffee stream into his mug. “Of course. See you soon, Smitty.”

 

His phone beeped to signal the call had ended. Retrieving his coffee mug, Tyler hummed to himself as he stirred in sugar and creamer. He took a long sip and tapped a few numbers into his phone. Pressing the call button, he set his phone on speaker and opened the fridge. 

 

Moments later, a voice heavy with sleep and annoyance answered his call. “ _ Hullo? _ ”

 

Tyler closed the fridge door, breakfast in hand. “Sup, Daithi. Listen, I know it’s a little early in the morning, but can you do me a favor?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayyy I'm excited for the next chapter
> 
> more characters are gonna be introduced soon :>


	3. Three

Craig yawned for the umpteenth time that morning, rubbing exhaustion from his eyes. Draining the last few drops of coffee from the plastic cup, he tossed it into the overflowing recycling bin and turned back to his monitor. The clock on the wall read 5:31.  _ I don’t get paid enough for this shit, _ he grumbled internally. 

 

He toggled between dozens of camera feeds from locations all over the city. Live video feed of streets, buildings, stores, and much more flashed past the screen. Anything that went on outside, he could see. As interesting as it could be— and it  _ was, _ he had other things to do. Namely, a job.

 

With a few swift keystrokes, he brought up a map of the entire city. Hundreds on hundreds of markers and symbols popped up, flashing all sorts of different colors, shapes, and sizes. Frowning, Craig zoomed in on one particular area sectioned off in a square-shaped outline. He opened all camera feeds in the selected district and flipped through them, searching for anything out of order.

 

To his surprise, almost a third of the cameras showed static or blank feed. Craig furrowed his eyebrows.  _ They were malfunctioning last week, but I thought we fixed them already _ Opening his desk, he rummaged through piles of paper.  _ Didn’t Tyler send out that one guy who had a Southern accent? _ His fingers sifted through page after page. Black letters against white backdrops blurred against eachother, the words bleeding into eachother. He stifled another yawn.

 

In his peripheral vision, he saw one of the active camera feeds flicker for a moment. Craig turned back to his monitor, attention drawn. 

 

Three figures, all dressed in dark clothing, stood with their backs to the camera. Two of them appeared to be arguing animatedly, the tallest of them gesturing with his hands. The figure with blonde hair shook his head and started to walk away, but the tall man surged forward and seized him by the arm. He wore a mask that covered the lower half of his face. It twitched and shifted as he bickered back and forth with the blonde, who tried to extract his arm. The last figure looked on in silence, arms crossed and expression unreadable underneath a pair of heavy shades.

 

Craig frowned. Even though he couldn’t make out what they were saying, an uneasy feeling settled in his gut as he watched. 

 

The argument reached its peak when the blonde shoved the masked man backwards. The latter took offence and shouted something— a challenge, Craig guessed. Suddenly, both of them took out silenced pistols. They regarded eachother warily before standing back-to-back. The man in sunglasses watched with no discernable emotion. 

 

Alarmed pumped through Craig as he leaned in closer; if he strained hard enough, he could barely hear the shitty audio. The two men with guns were counting out loud, and with each number, they took a step forward away from eachother.

 

_ They’re dueling, _ he realized with sudden dread. He stared at the screen in horror, unable to tear his eyes away.

 

When the count reached ten, both men whipped around. Cocked. Aimed. 

 

Fired.

 

A whisper of sound, barely audible.

 

The blonde-haired man fell to his knees, clutching his side in agony. Crimson seeped between his fingers. His gun clattered to the ground beside him.

 

The masked man took out a knife, stalking forward.

 

Craig’s breath caught in his throat. 

 

One swift motion and the blonde was spread-eagle on the ground, convulsing as a deluge of blood poured out from his throat and mouth, staining the cement dark red. Unfazed by the mess, the man in sunglasses stepped forward and knelt beside the body, removing a wallet. He nodded once to the masked man, who bowed and left the field of view. 

 

Dark shades looked up to face the camera. Clutched in one hand was the dead blonde’s wallet. In the other hand, a pistol. 

 

Craig saw him smile. 

 

The man raised the gun and fired. The surveillance feed flashed white and then black before turning to static. An error message popped up, displaying the words  _ 606 server error: camAE3 currently unavailable, connection lost _ . 

 

Craig didn’t notice, didn’t care.

 

How long he sat there shaking without moving, he lost track. It wasn’t until his phone lit up with a random software update that he glanced down and noticed the time. 6:00 AM. 

 

A sudden thought shook him out of his daze.  _ Jonathan. Ryan.  _ Panic rose in his throat, threatening to overwhelm him.  _ That camera was only two blocks away from their hotel location!  _ His breaths came in short, shaky gasps and he fought to keep his heartbeat under control.  _ They have to get back here. Now. _

 

Fingers shaking, he opened his phone and sent a quick text to Tyler:  _ Found something on the cameras. It’s an emergency, I’m evacing Del & Ohm right now. Tell you more when you arrive at the station. _

 

Craig was frantically searching through his contacts for Ryan’s number when out of the blue, a certain contact slid down his screen as he scrolled, catching his attention. His fingers froze, hovering inches above a long-dead name he hadn’t seen in years.

 

_ Terroriser. _

 

A wave of grief washed over him. 

 

The Brit turned his head aside slowly, the bones in his neck cracking as he ran his eyes over the large corkboard wall pinned with black-and-white “MISSING” flyers; pages on pages of random people who disappeared and had never been found. Most of the flyers had been stamped over with a large red seal: “FOUND DEAD.”

 

His gaze fell upon one paper in particular. Underneath the ugly red ink stamp, instead of the standard grainy, low-res black-and-white portrait there was a full-color picture photo. He stared at the smiling face and felt an all-too-familiar ache of regret tear at his heart. 

 

_ I couldn’t save you in time.  _

 

A face he would never see again.

 

_ I should have. But I couldn’t. _

 

Tears pricked his eyes as he stared at the flyer.

 

_ I can’t let anyone else die because of me. _

 

“This is for you, Brian,” Craig murmured. 

 

He opened Ryan’s number and pressed the call button.

 

\---

 

“ _ Won’t you help me sober up, g _ _ rowing up it made me numb, and I want to feel something again, _ ” Jonathan sang out loud, atrociously off-key. Across the living room of the hotel room, a tall brunette paused, mid-coffee-sip, to glare daggers at him. The normally taciturn detective had draped his lanky body across the oversized couch, earbuds plugged in and blasting music. His famous hockey mask was pushed up carelessly to his hair, revealing bright blue eyes and an electric smile. Ryan, his partner-in-(legal)-crime stood at the kitchen island, downing a third cup of coffee. 

 

The brunette sighed, “We’re supposed to be undercover, Delirious.”

 

“ _ Won’t you help me feel something agaiiiiin, _ ” was the reply he got. Exasperated, Ryan walked up behind the couch and yanked out his earbuds.

 

“Ow! The fuck was that for?” Jonathan complained, pawing the air in a vain effort to grab his earbuds back. “I said we’re  _ undercover _ , dumbass.” Ryan crossed his arms. “The whole purpose of this mission is to stay low and avoid attracting attention to ourselves. What that  _ doesn’t _ include is belting AJR songs at the top of your lungs at six in the morning. We’ve only been here for a solid three hours and you’ve already managed to piss off everyone on this floor. And I’ve gotten two calls from the hotel manager complaining about the noise. If you keep this up, someone’s bound to call the police, mostly likely to arrest you for your terrible vocals.”

 

“So?”

 

“So no more music. If you get us caught, Evan is going to flip his shit again.” Ryan gave him a look. “And you know how he is.” 

 

Jonathan stared down at his lap sullenly. “… Can I at least have my earbuds back? I won’t sing this time, I promise.”

 

“Nope. Last time you ‘promised’ to be quiet, we ended up having to jump into the bay to lose the police.” He tucked the earbuds into his jacket. “I’m keeping them,” he said over his shoulder, walking back to the kitchen island. 

 

A temporary quiet fell over the room. Jonathan sulked quietly on the couch while Ryan scrolled through his phone and sipped coffee. 

 

After a moment of silence, Jonathan spoke up suddenly. “You remember Brian?”

 

The other glanced up. “You mean the former Chief?”

 

“Yeah. What actually happened?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

The detective sat upright, twisting around to face him. “That night. He didn’t die. What happened to him?”

 

Ryan gave him a weird look. “He  _ did _ die. The records—”

 

“I don’t give two shits about what the records say. I know he wasn’t killed in the gunfight; it just doesn’t add up. I asked Evan about it.” 

 

“Jon, Evan is a lawyer, not a detective. That’s not his job.”

 

“He knows as much about crime scenes as I do!” Jonathan exclaimed. The brunette just shook his head and turned back to his phone. “ _ Ryan. _ ”

 

The brunette lifted his head reluctantly. Jonathan met his gaze. “Ohm, both you and I know Brian didn’t die,” he said quietly. “The body wasn’t his.”

 

“Yes, it was.”

 

“No, it wasn’t! I checked the autopsy and it didn’t match!”

 

“Well if it wasn’t him, then who was it?”

 

“I don’t know, but—”

 

“Exactly. You don’t know. In fact, no one does. As far as the case goes, Brian Hanby is  _ dead _ . He was killed in a gang skirmish.”

 

Jonathan seethed. “Just because there’s supposedly evidence doesn’t mean it’s true! I can prove it!”

 

“Doesn’t mean it  _ isn’t _ true, either,” Ryan retorted. At Jonathan’s glare, he sighed. “Look, Jon. I know it’s sketchy, but it’s been three years. That case closed a long time ago. The suspect has already been convicted and sentenced for life.”

 

The detective shook his head vehemently. “He’s still alive. He’s still out there. I’ve been searching lately; reading through all the files, reports, data, everything. It just doesn’t add up. Plus—”

 

The phone on the counter rang suddenly, cutting him off. Ryan glanced at the screen. “It’s Craig.” He answered the call, setting it on speaker. “Hello?”

 

“ _ Hey, Ohm. What’s your location right now? _ ”

 

“Silver Hotel on 32nd Avenue. What’s up?”

 

Craig sounded unsteady, afraid even. “ _ There’s been a change of plans. New orders; report back to the base ASAP. Get out of there as quietly and as fast as possible. _ ”

 

“Craig, what’s going on?” Jonathan asked, pushing himself off the couch.

 

“ _ I’ll explain everything later, I promise, but you need to get the fuck out of there right now. That’s an order. _ ”

 

“Alright. But you owe us an explanation when we get back, and it better be good,” Ryan said, rising from his seat to tug on his jacket. 

 

“ _ Oh, it’s  _ good _ all right, _ ” Craig said grimly. “ _ In fact, it’s only getting better. _ ”

 

The call ended as abruptly as it started. Both men exchanged glances; Jonathan thoroughly confused while Ryan grabbed his car keys and took out his Colt from its holster, hidden away underneath his belt. 

 

“The hell was that all about?” the detective questioned. The other shrugged, twisting a silencer onto his pistol. “I dunno, but whatever it is, it sounded of utmost urgency, and I’m not about to question Craig. Hurry your ass up and get ready.” 

 

Jonathan obeyed, grabbing his Desert Eagle from the counter and made sure it was loaded before stuffing it into the holster at his waist. He ran his hands underneath his sleeves, adjusting the combat knives strapped to each wrist. Ryan lingered by the doorway, tapping his foot impatiently, keys dangling from his hand. At his raised eyebrow, Jonathan nodded, jaw set. “Let’s go.”

 

The door clicked shut behind them, their soft footsteps fading down the hall. 

 

In their hurry, neither of them noticed the tiny, spider-like drone perched on the ceiling directly above the door, its single camera eye tracking the two men down the hallway. Next to the eye, a red light blinked on. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll update every few days or so, if school's not kicking my ass


	4. Four

Smitty really didn’t know what he expected of Tyler’s friend.

 

But it definitely wasn’t the extremely tall, dark-haired man with the thickest Irish accent he’d ever heard.

 

The guy’s name was Daithi De Nogla ( _ what kind of name was that? _ he thought to himself, but he didn’t comment on it), or just Daithi for short. Smitty had taken a liking to him right away after they’d introduced themselves, and the same thing could be said for the Irishman as well. 

 

Not fifteen minutes after they’d met, they were speeding down the highway in Daithi’s BMW, bumping the shit out of random 80s songs while challenging eachother to coffee-chugging contests— the guy had a serious Starbucks addiction. 

 

“So how long have ye been working fer Tyler?” Daithi asked while “Africa” by Toto played softly through the speakers. Smitty hummed along to the music, sipping his coffee. “This is my first real day of work, actually.”

 

“First real day?”

 

“I came in yesterday, but only for a tour of the building,” he explained. “Today’s my first day on the job.” 

 

“So yer new then, laddie?”

 

“Yep. Pretty much.”

 

“Well good luck on yer shift then, Smitty. A word of advice an’ warnin’, though; it ain’t yer av’rage everyday police patrol. There’s far more to this job than ye t’ink.” 

 

“But how do you know?” Smitty set his coffee down, curious. 

 

The music played softly in the background. Daithi smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I used to work t’ere but I quit a few years back.” 

 

“Why’d you leave?”

 

Twin brown orbs weighed heavy behind framed glasses. His voice fell soft with an emotion Smitty couldn’t read as the Irishman sighed quietly, turning back to the road. 

 

“Ye’ll see.”

 

\--- 

 

The clock read 6:17 AM when Tyler burst through the front door of the police station. “Mornin’ Chief,” Craig greeted him without looking up, accepting the coffee the American handed him with a nod. 

 

“Sup, nerd.” Tyler ruffled his hair fondly, secretly savoring the touch of his blue hair. “You found something on the cameras?”

 

A shadow passed over the Brit’s face. “Yeah, I did.” A few keystrokes and a video tab titled “CAM_AE3_REPLAY” popped up on the monitor. “Watch this.”

 

“What—” Tyler stared at the figures on the screen in confusion as the video started playing. “Who are they?”

 

“Just watch.” Craig’s mouth set in a straight line, thin and unyielding. 

 

They watched the entire video, Craig looking on in grim resolve and Tyler with shocked horror as the murder played out on the camera feed. Even when the camera feed burst into static, ending the video, neither of them said a word. 

 

Tyler finally spoke, his notoriously loud voice now quiet and hoarse. “Who were they?”

 

Craig shook his head. “I don’t know. Never seen them before.”

 

“Where did this happen?”

 

The Brit pulled up a city map, indicating a district outlined in thick black lines. “32nd Avenue, only a few blocks away—“

 

“—from where Delirious and Ohm are staying,” Tyler finished, burying his head in his hands. “Shit.”

 

“Exactly. I ordered them back to base about twenty minutes ago and haven’t heard from them since. They might be followed if they don’t get out of there fast enough.”

 

Unconsciously, Tyler touched his fingers to the pistol hidden in his belt. “Fuck. See if you can find anything on those three guys. Identification, clothing, anything.”

 

Craig was already typing, fingers flying rapidly across the keyboard. “Way ahead of you already.” Several screenshots from the video appeared on the screen, focused on both men. Craig pointed at a zoomed–in black shirt sleeve. “See these two, the masked dude and the guy with sunglasses? Judging by the matching insignias on their clothing as well as the gun Mask Face had, it’s very likely they’re part of a gang.”

 

Tyler frowned, inspecting the insignia. Nothing special, just a simple snake with green eyes, coiled up with its head reared and fangs bared. “Not from the one currently in a fight with another gang, are they?”

 

“Nope. In fact—” The Brit rummaged around in his desk, scattering flyers and files everywhere. He pulled out a full record of gang names and details, sorted by latest and most relevant, and handed it to Tyler. “I can’t identify those two at all.”

 

The American flipped through page after page of the thick stack, mulling over Craig’s words. “Are you sure they’re not part of the BBS? That’s the only gang in the city who doesn’t have any emblem of some kind that relates to them.”

 

“Extremely unlikely. The BBS are a relatively small gang, with only five members we know so far. It’s co-run by two men, known as—” Craig took the papers from his hand and scanned through a list of member names “—‘BasicallyIDoWrk’ and ‘Fourzer0seven.’”

 

“Who the hell comes up with these fuckin’ names?” Tyler muttered, peering over his shoulder. 

 

The Brit continued on. “Other BBS members include ‘Moo,’ ‘Cartoonz,’ and some guy named Lui Calibre. It’s speculated there are others, most likely one or two we haven’t seen yet. But neither Mask Face nor Sunglasses Dude fit any of the BBS descriptions or share similar behaviour. Not to mention, the BBS are located all the way on the other side of the city.”

 

“So, no BBS.”

 

“Nope,” Craig confirmed. 

 

“What about other gangs? Anything else?”

 

The Brit frowned at the list before turning back to his monitor. “None that match. That list contains full details of all of the gangs in the entire city — none of which bear the snake.” Craig locked eyes with him briefly, sending Tyler’s heart fluttering; he slapped himself internally — hard. “And you know the code.”

 

Struggling to clear his mind, Tyler tried to recall. “I forgot; gimme a quick refresher.”

 

Craig sighed, dutifully obeying. “All of the gangs in the city follow a strict, almost lawful — if weren’t for their bloody conflicts and brutal punishments — code. It details behavior, clothing, loyalties, etc, among other things. And one of the most important rules of the code is that a gang member should never wear any symbol except the insignia of his gang. To them, wearing an emblem of any other kind is viewed as criminal; sacrilegious, almost. So basically, it’s a sign of honor and loyalty.”

 

Tyler squinted one eye, trying to put the pieces together. “So, in other words—”

 

“—Sunglasses Dude and Mask Face could very well be part of an entirely new, previously undiscovered gang,” Craig finished grimly. 

 

The office fell silent, the monitor humming quietly in the background.

 

The quiet was broken when Tyler sighed and summed up his thoughts in a single word. “Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry about the wait, this chapter took me a lot longer than I thought, heh
> 
> I've split it into two parts, I'll post the second part as soon as I edit it


	5. Five

Ryan exhaled heavily through his nose. “For the millionth time, get your damn feet off the dashboard. I can’t see on that side.”

 

Jonathan yawned and complied grudgingly. “I’m bored,” he whined. “And I want food.”

 

The brunette shook his head sternly. “We’re not stopping for food.”

 

“But I’m  _ hungry _ !”

 

Ryan had to physically restrain himself from faceplanting into his hands — which would have been a very bad idea, considering he was currently using them to navigate their Subaru through an extremely crowded intersection. Cars honked, tires screeched, and drivers yelled at eachother in irritation. Amid the chaos, a pair of jet-black SUVs wove their way through the web of vehicles. 

 

Somehow, Ryan managed to weave through. He pulled off into another road, leaving the traffic behind. “We’re taking a different route.” He glared at the pouting detective. “Could you maybe make yourself useful?”

 

Jonathan slumped down in his seat, toying with his jacket. “What do you want me to do?”

 

“Quit whining, for starters.” The detective scowled and stared out of the window, still grumpy. “You stole my earbuds,” he grumbled under his breath. 

 

Ryan groaned, tapping the accelerator. “Because you were being really fucking loud! And also, you suck at singing.”

 

“Your taste in music sucks,” Jonathan retorted, jabbing a finger at the radio. “Who the hell listens to country, anyways? Besides cowboys and rednecks, I mean.”

Ryan twisted to face him, protesting, “ _ I _ do!” In the few seconds his head was turned, both of them missed the glint of black metal in the mirror. 

 

The detective snorted, “Country is shit.”

 

“80s songs are shit,” the brunette retorted. 

 

Jonathan’s head snapped around instantly. “ _ Bitch _ —”

 

A flash of sunlight caught Ryan’s eye in the rearview mirror. The brunette cut him off, frowning at the mirror. “Whoa, those cars are driving real close to us. Hey, weren’t they the same ones we saw back on the main road?”

 

Jonathan spun around in his seat, craning his neck for a better angle. Sure enough, the pair of black SUVs were trailing behind them, close enough that he could easily make out the dark silhouette of the driver of the nearest vehicle. Both cars bore tinted windows and lights, and outer panels that appeared suspiciously bulletproof. Neither of them had license plates. 

 

Unease sank like a lead weight in his stomach. “Ryan, aren’t all cars supposed to have license plates in the front?”

 

“Usually, yeah. Why?”

 

“They don’t ha—”

 

The driver’s window of the nearest SUV scrolled down. His words died in his throat when a dark barrel of a gun peeked out and aimed at them.

 

_ Click. _

 

Jonathan screamed. 

 

“ _ Get down! _ ”

 

Out of pure instinct, his arm shot out and latched onto Ryan’s collar, slamming him down face-first into the steering wheel. The bullet pierced straight through the middle of the driver’s headrest and missed the back of the brunette’s head by centimeters, punching a hole through the front windshield. Glass rained down all around them. 

 

“What the fuck, Jon?!” Ryan shouted, jerking the wheel to the left. The car swerved sharply as more gunshots echoed behind them, most of them missing their target. Blood streamed from the brunette’s nose and dripped down his chin, staining his shirt crimson.

 

“I just saved your fucking life, you ass!  _ Now drive! _ ” 

 

Biting back a retort—  _ because it was not the time nor the place— _ Ryan floored the gas and sped the car through several red lights in a row with the SUVs in hot pursuit. Neither paid any mind to the multitudes of cars around them swerving and honking in protest. Automobiles of all shapes and sizes pushed and shoved eachother in a battle to get out of the way of the speeding red car pursued by two black SUVs.

 

Jonathan fumbled for his own gun, flicking off the safety. Twisting around in his seat, he aimed and fired at their pursuers, playing a dangerous game of hide and peek as they exchanged bullets.

 

Jonathan grinned, ducking down as a small volley of bullets sped by overhead. “I got one of them!” One of his shots pierced the tire of the closest SUV. It careened sideways and was promptly T-boned by a truck. 

 

Ryan stole a glance at the rearview mirror, licking at the blood on his teeth. “Now get rid of the other one.”

 

Squinting down the ironsight, Jonathan took aim and fired again. This time, the driver of the remaining SUV was smarter. Without slowing, the Lexus wove in and out of the stream of traffic, using other cars as cover even as they swerved out of its way. 

 

Jonathan gritted his teeth in frustration. “He won’t fuckin’ stay still. And I can’t blind fire, I don’t wanna risk shooting anyone else.” He quickly ducked down as more bullets zipped by overhead. 

 

Ryan swore, knuckles white on the steering wheel. A bullet pierced the glass inches next to his face. He flinched as glass peppered his arms. “Sons of bitches, they’re getting closer. I’m gonna have to take a detour.” Without warning, he slammed the brakes and jerked the wheel to the left. “Hold on!”

 

Jonathan grunted, the sudden movement shoving him violently against the car door. The car executed a full 180 degrees, crossing over the double yellow line in the middle of the road and veering around to the opposite side of the road. Tires screeched and the smell of burning rubber filled the air as the SUV zoomed by, the larger, bulkier vehicle unable to turn around fast enough without spinning out of control. 

 

“ _ What the fuck are you doing? _ ” Jonathan screeched. Dozens of cars rushed towards them at an alarming speed, beeping and honking loudly in alarm as Ryan floored the gas and zigzagged wildly through oncoming traffic, miraculously avoiding collision with any vehicle. 

 

“I’m getting us out of here, dumbass! What else does it look like I’m doing?” the brunette shouted.

 

Jonathan clung to his seat for dear life, screaming at the top of his lungs as they narrowly avoided a head-on collision with a truck. “ _ WE’RE ON THE WRONG FUCKING SIDE OF THE ROAD!! _ ”

 

“ _ STOP FUCKING SCREAMING!! _ ” Ryan screamed back.

 

Jonathan pressed himself into the side of the car door, screwing his eyes shut and sending a quick mental prayer to the gods for mercy. Tires squealed and cars swerved to avoid them while they raced by in the opposite direction. “Then fucking get us out of here alive!” 

 

At the intersection up ahead of them, the traffic lights turned from red to green. Three lanes full of backed-up cars lurched forward, moving towards them at alarming speeds. Jonathan, who had taken cover behind the glove compartment, chose the exact worst time to peek over the dashboard. He was met with the sight of an impenetrable wall of vehicles coming straight at them with horns and alarms blaring.

 

Panic seizing control of his body, the detective clambered into his seat and grabbed his partner by the shoulder, fingers digging deep into his jacket. Blue eyes blown wide with panic and terror flickered back and forth between the brunette and the horde of swiftly-approaching cars. 

 

“Ryan, what in hell—”

 

“Jonathan, listen.” Ryan forced his voice to be calm. Dry blood on his lips cracked with every word, flakes of scarlet falling into his lap. “We’re going to get out of this alive, I swear.” He turned his head to look at his partner for what very well could be the last time, holding his steely gaze steady. In a softer voice, he added, “You’ll get to see Evan again. I promise.”

 

His words blindsided Jonathan. He slowly unhooked his fingers from Ryan’s arm, heart beating loud and dull in his ears. 

 

_ Evan. _

 

Jonathan swallowed hard before nodding. “Okay.”

 

Ryan offered him a half-smile before turning back to the road. His eyes flicked from side to side, frantically scanning for an exit; alleys, side streets, garages— anything. 

 

He found nothing.

 

Desperate, he looked to the sidewalk, devoid of pedestrians.  _ There’s no way that could fit us,  _ he thought, eyeing the thin strip of cracked cement. Then his gaze traveled to the one particular section of the buildings that lined the sidewalk and a sudden thought struck him. 

 

_ Unless…  _

 

A wild idea began forming in his mind. Was it dangerous? Undoubtedly — but something was better than nothing. 

 

His fingers tightened on the wheel.  _ I have to time it perfectly. _

 

The first line of cars were only two hundred feet away. Leading the horde was a giant black Chevy, thundering down the road in their lane, straight towards them. 

 

One hundred and fifty feet. The Chevy blared its horn, lights flashing. 

 

One hundred feet. Jonathan gripped his armrest so tightly he felt it give beneath his fingers. 

 

_ Evan. _

 

Fifty feet. Ryan made his decision. He muttered a quick prayer underneath his breath. 

 

_ One chance. One shot to get it right, or else…  _

 

Thirty. They were so close that they could make out each individual scratch on the front of the Chevy.

 

A quiet calm crept over Jonathan. 

 

_ This is how I die. _

 

With a shout, Ryan wrenched the wheel suddenly. The car swerved sharply to the right, missing the front bender of the Chevy by inches. 

 

The car cut across the road towards the sidewalk, headed straight for—

 

Jonathan’s eyes widened. “ _ The wall! _ ” 

 

Past the sidewalk, a giant building loomed ahead of them. The cracked, moss-grown brick wall featured graffiti in a proud assortment of shapes, sizes, and colors. And they were racing full speed straight towards it. 

 

The instant before they rammed into the side of the building, Ryan jerked the wheel again. The front right tire bumped up against the wall. Instead of crashing, however, they turned last second and somehow managed to pull itself at an angle and drive with both right wheels on the wall and both left wheels on the ground. The car itself tilted sharply to a diagonal slant, pressing Ryan uncomfortably against the car door as he somehow managed to keep both hands on the steering wheel. 

 

Jonathan, on the other hand, was forced to grab onto the “oh-shit” handle in order to stay upright and avoid toppling over to the left. “This is either the best or worst idea you’ve ever had,” he shouted, bracing himself against the dashboard with his legs. 

 

“I’d say the best, considering we’re still fucking alive right now!” Ryan shot back. 

 

As they drove, the right tires of the car shredded through the blanket of moss that covered the building walls, streaks of green flying across the cracked windshield, a few pieces flying through the bullet holes in the glass. Ryan noticed Jonathan spitting out clumps of flora that had found their way into his mouth and turned to grin at him. “Enjoying yourself?”

 

It earned him a wet lump of moss to the face. “Eyes on the road, asshole.” 

 

A few hundred feet of them, they could see the edge where the adjacent building walls ended with the sidewalk to branch off into a side road. Ryan felt some of the tension leave his body. He exhaled in relief, “Finally, a way out.”

 

Jonathan grunted from where he had wedged himself sideways in his seat to accommodate for the angle of the car. “How far are we from the station?”

 

“Based on how far we had to backtrack, I’d say pretty far.” Ryan jerked the wheel and the car slipped off the wall, its two right tires making contact with solid ground again. “Give it fifteen, twenty minutes and we’ll be there.” They sped smoothly down the side road, on the right side of the street this time. 

 

The detective furrowed his brows. “Do you think they sent more guys after us? The guys in the SUVs, I mean.” 

 

“Sure as hell hope not. And if they did, I’ll outrun them.” Ryan grinned and held out a fist. “You gotta admit though, that was kinda fun.”

 

Jonathan allowed himself a small smile, fist bumping his partner. “Alright, yeah, it was pretty cool. I’ll call the station, let them know we’re on our way and that we’re alive.”

 

“Good idea.” Blue eyes scanned his contact list, pressing a call button under the selected name. “Hey, Chief.”

 

Brief static crackled. “ _ Sup, Delirious. _ ”

 

Jonathan put the call on speaker and propped the phone against the radio. “Nothing much, just checking in to tell you we’ll be at the station in, uh… ”

 

“Fifteen minutes,” Ryan finished. 

 

“ _ Alright, sounds good. _ ” Tyler paused. “ _ You guys run into any trouble? _ ”

 

“Nothing much,” Jonathan said dismissively. “Just chased and shot at by two black SUVs. Took one out, shot out their tire.”

 

“And I had to half-wallride on the wrong side of the road to lose the other one,” Ryan chimed in. 

 

“Oh, and I also saved Ryan’s life. Gave him a bloody nose in the process, but better that than a hole in the head,” the detective bragged shamelessly. Ryan rolled his eyes and suppressed a smile, scratching at the patch of dried blood on his upper lip. 

 

Tyler groaned audibly through the phone. “ _ Fucking Christ. Just get your asses back here ASAP. _ ”

 

Jonathan had to stifle a laugh. “Yes, sir. Also, can we ask you something?”

 

“ _ Shoot. _ ”

 

“Why did Craig call us to evac so early in our mission? I thought things were goin’ fine. He sounded kinda panicked and in a rush to get us out.”

 

For a moment, there was only silence on the other end. Then, “ _ I’ll give you the full rundown when you get back to base, but— _ ” A deep sigh echoed through the phone. Brows furrowed, Jonathan exchanged a worried look with Ryan. “ _ Craig found a murder on one of our cameras. He did some research on the killers, and to make a long fuckin’ story short… _ ” Tyler exhaled loudly, briefly cracking the audio. 

 

“ _ We found a whole ass new gang in the city. _ ”

 

The engine hummed, and the car fell silent. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy SHIT this is late :L
> 
> sorry for the delay, I forgot to put this chapter up before I left for a trip. anyways, hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> \- Jay

**Author's Note:**

> it's ya boi, back at it again with the memes
> 
> yell at me in the comments :]


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